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A twisted tale along the long and winding road of campaign finance reform: Cohn

Having been hounded by the media into surrendering its cosy relationship with big business and big unions, the Liberals are now trying to deny the opposition any opportunity to commune with the citizenry.

Odd, though, that any party would seek an exemption for itself. Yes, corn roasts and spaghetti dinners sound like small beer — until you remember why the big brewers were also interested in the opposition, writes Martin Regg Cohn. (Steve Russell / Toronto Star file photo)

If you believe what you read in the business press, there is a plot afoot by the provincial government to diminish democracy.

And if you listen to Ontario’s opposition, it is nothing less than an attack on the fundamentals of free speech — which is to say, the freedom to fundraise: Good old-fashioned fundraisers — you know, spaghetti dinners and corn roasts.

The underlying logic behind this unusual argument is that things are different outside Toronto. In rural Ontario, there are no big-city bankers buying off politicians, nor any lobbyists lurking — just locals looking for face-to-face time with their local representative in the legislature.

The opposition, echoed by conservative commentators, claim the mean-spirited Liberals are lashing out in a rage. Having been hounded by the media into surrendering its cosy relationship with big business and big unions, the governing party is now trying to deny the opposition any opportunity to commune with the citizenry.

It’s a seductive narrative. And a twisted tale along the long and winding road of campaign finance reform in Ontario.

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But beyond this powerful nostalgia is the remarkable amnesia that afflicts opposition MPPs suddenly crying in their beer. You remember beer?

Ah yes, all those political fundraisers hosted by Progressive Conservative and NDP politicians right here in Toronto — no, not back home in the riding — at Labatt House, the posh private salon situated in the corporate headquarters of Labatt, owned by foreign multinational AB InBev, cheerfully lobbying those MPPs to preserve its cosy quasi-monopolistic arrangement through The Beer Store, in which it had a major interest.

And those fundraisers hosted by Molson Coors at its own sumptuous salon, where (as at Labatt) friendly lobbyists bought tickets from them, and sold tickets for them — priced at several hundred dollars a head. You can look up a small sampling of MPPs from various parties — Liberal, PC and NDP — in the series of columns published by the Star in 2014 detailing what is commonly called “cash for access.”

Beyond beer money and corn roasts, however, there’s also the Albany Club, the private Progressive Conservative hangout in downtown Toronto where high rollers pay to play. Why do energy industry executives pay hundreds of dollars a head to hear, say, Tory MPP John Yakabuski (who hails from the eastern Ontario riding of Renfrew-Nipissing-Pembroke) expound on energy policy at the Albany Club?

Could it be that, as the official party critic for energy, he might well be the mighty minister of energy should the PCs win power in the next election? An election that is roughly 20 months away? Curiously, no mention of that in the business press.

But business likes to hedge its bets. Or as they say in the NHL, future considerations.

But it’s not just cabinet ministers who are prey for lobbyists. So, too, are their parliamentary assistants — Liberal MPPs who serve as their understudies. In fact, all members of the Liberal caucus are invited to sit on cabinet committees, where they become privy to high level discussions about government policy. It only makes sense that they, too, should be governed by fundraising bans that apply to ministers.

The idea that opposition MPPs need not be similarly constrained, because they don’t hold power at the moment (even though they might in an upcoming election) is a polite fiction that remains a hard sell. And the hypocritical demand from the PCs that they should somehow get a special exemption from fundraising bans that apply to the governing party, because they are impervious to influence, is unprecedented.

Remember the leaked correspondence from Tory MPP Randy Hillier, who rued his party’s plan to milk construction conglomerate EllisDon for more money in 2013 after backing legislation it sought: “In caucus, it was stated quite explicitly that following a successful EllisDon fundraiser . . . our party would continue to benefit financially with the advancement of this legislation,” Hillier wrote.

Fast forward to January of this year, and a job posting for “Manager, Major Gifts” at the PC Ontario Fund makes it crystal clear what’s envisioned by the party: “Articulate the Case for Support to Donors to secure their investment into the vision/mission/goals of the Ontario PC Party for Victory in 2018.”

That’s politics, as practiced for decades in Ontario. Good on all parties for promising to fix it.

Odd, though, that any party would seek an exemption for itself. Yes, corn roasts and spaghetti dinners sound like small beer — until you remember why the big brewers were also interested in the opposition.

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